


Wanderers without Cause

by EarthtoEarth_AshestoAshes_DusttoDust



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Characters of color, Everyone Is Gay, Fixing the movies, Gen, Nonbinary Character, Queer Characters, Trans Character, What are Tags?, cursing, warnings before each chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-03-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22120528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EarthtoEarth_AshestoAshes_DusttoDust/pseuds/EarthtoEarth_AshestoAshes_DusttoDust
Summary: One book. Three film adaptions. One TV series. One teleplay. Five radio series. Six stage plays. Two video games. The children's story that spawned the entirety of Middle Earth is a tempting challenge to adapt. The chance to do what Tolkien could not and revise the hobbit from children's story to serious prequel is an attractive aim. Succeed, and you've hit gold. Fail, and you've adapted a beloved classic.An attempt to fix Peter Jackson's film trilogy, making a suitable heir for Lord of the Rings by melding it with book-lore, and submitting a rushed trilogy through loving revision. Also, an extra character.A blending of book and PJ's plot, will be in two installments.Currently updating every other week.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	1. Rainy Days

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for some starvation, threats, and violence. None of it is explicit.  
> You're welcome.

I ended up with my arms tied behind my back, sharing a pony with Dwalin. Who reeked. And hated me. And did not appreciate a scrawny delicate person such as myself surpassing him by an inch. It didn’t help matters that I’d laughed in Thorin’s face because he was two inches shorter. The ride passed in silence from my end. When we stopped for the night, Dwalin got down first and I dismounted after him. 

They made camp and I was pointedly not given anything to eat. Dwalin sat by my side and Thorin sat across from me. 

“What do you know of us?” Thorin said. Dwalin leaned over me and put a heavy arm across my shoulders.

“I’d answer him if I were you.” He said lowly in my ear. I paid this the same attention I’d given Thorin. So it went. 

As the evening progressed they didn’t let up. Like hell I was going to talk to my kidnappers. I hadn’t had lunch, nor was I given dinner, and they didn’t bother trying to bribe me with it. Their loss. Balin joined us at some point. The conversation, if it could be called that, consisted of me standing silently with all three behind a rock while they yelled at me. Then came threats.

Thorin clocked me out of nowhere and I went down. Sniffling and trying to hold back my tears, I curled up to protect my body. Dwalin hauled me up. 

“Who told you of us?” Thorin said.

“No one!”

“Who told you of our quest!”

“I don’t-I- I just know! I don’t- I just know!”

Never let it be said that random shitty excuses made up in the middle of having the shit beaten out of you make any sense. They didn’t hit my face again, but I did finish the evening with a couple of good bruises on my arms and torso. That night, huddled around my phone to hide the light, there was no service and so, terrified, I turned it off.

In the morning, I was woken by Bilbo gently tapping my shoulder. I think I scared him when I flinched back. He offered me some stew. I took it with a muttered, “thanks.” Gandalf was already up and around, smoking a pipe as he paced. 

Kíli walked over and sat down next to me. I hurriedly finished it off, not wanting to know when I would next eat. Or if I would loose my only meal.

“Stew good?” He said cheerfully. I scraped out every bit I could, then glared at him. Kíli winced at my face and I went back to scraping out my bowl. When I had to accept that there was nothing left, I turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“So, where are you from?” Kíli said. For a moment, I contemplated my answer. Smoke butterflies fluttered about Gandalf’s head. I hate lying.

“America.” I said. 

“I’ve never heard of it.” Kíli said. I huffed and refocused on my feet. The dwarf waited at my side, staring at me. Then I looked up and saw Fíli watching us. In his hands, he slowly whittled and carved a piece of wood. It took shape without him even looking down at it. 

“Not fucking surprised.” I said finally. 

“Is it far?” Kíli said. Rubbing my fingers, I stared at the dwarf who knew nothing of cars and phones, airplanes or fantasy novels. I couldn’t tell them everything. I had to give them just enough to be believable, in ways they could understand. Tolkien, my not so secret vice, would have to remain hidden. A medieval society, no matter how advanced and complex with interspecies relationships and magic, couldn’t understand me. I’d have to be careful what I told them.

Kíli took this as a non-answer and returned to Fíli’s side. Thorin woke up, as the company slowly came to life and animated. Dwalin resumed his watch over my shoulder, and Thorin walked over to Fíli and Kíli to discuss the night’s watch. They talked to him a bit, and gestured over to me. After agonizing over it for a while, I stood up and returned the bowl to Bofur under Dwalin’s watchful eyes. 

“How’d you get this?” He said. I just handed it to him, and went back to regretfully sit next to Dwalin. Thorin glanced at me then agreed to something with Fíli and Kíli. After they were done eating, making merry and ignoring me, the camp began packing up. I felt some sprinkles, and looked up to see the sky looking dark and overcast.

“Bilbo-” I said when he passed me.

“Have we met?” He said abruptly.

“Uh, no.”

“Then I don’t think you’re familiar enough to call me by my first name.” He said. I looked at the dwarves around us, and rolled my eyes.

“Well then Master Baggins, I was going to offer you my hood given it’s going to rain soon.” I said, holding out my raincoat. Bilbo looked at my coat, then me, then Bofur, then Gandalf. After not receiving an answer, he looked up at the sky, in time for some raindrops to get him in the eye.

“Oh, very well.” He said and took it, and walked off to pack up his pony.

Dwalin stood up behind me as I placidly remained seated, and stretched. Fíli walked over, and I tacitly found out that Dwalin had had enough of me, and I was to be FIli’s responsibility today. Not in so many words, or really any, aside from Fíli informing me I was to share his pony. To his surprise, I didn’t put up any fight. He raised an eyebrow at me, when I calmly and easily allowed them to walk me over to his pony.

“No protest?” Fíli said. I shrugged, just to get it over with. My best chance of running had passed me by with the moon. After a moment, he took my silence as an answer and mounted up. Then, to the snickering of nearby dwarves, he helped me up on the pony behind him. Fíli took both my wrists and tied them in front of him.

“We head out!” Thorin said and the ponies pulled ahead. Bilbo struggled to get up on his pony for a bit, then finally broke down.

“Wait-“ he called.

“We cannot delay for handkerchiefs or whatever luxury you now desire, Master Baggins.” Thorin said, turning around. He stopped and Bilbo huffed.

“Bofur-“

“On it!” Bofur called back to Thorin, leading his pony over. He dismounted and helped Bilbo up, practically lifting the hobbit onto his pony. Bilbo squeaked to the sound of the company groaning or chuckling. He was almost thrown over the poor animal, and awkwardly held the reins. We headed out.

Thunder rolled overhead. It began to rain, which swiftly turned into a downpour. In minutes, we were all soaked. I was grateful I was hugging Fíli, as he was much warmer though wet dwarf smells like wet dog. I leaned my head to the side of his face.

“Can you pull up my hood?” I murmured, feeling him startle against me. I wiggled my hands in front of him for emphasis, and Fíli snorted. Then a hand hit the back of my head, my hood draping over my face. Kíli chuckled a bit beside us, pulling up to ride to the side.

“Thanks asshole.” It slipped out of my mouth and I could have hit myself for saying it. To my relief, Kíli snickered.

“So,” Kíli said brightly, “where’s America?” I stiffened. The rain dripped between Fíli and I as I mulled over my answer. I could say to the northwest, or across the sea- though they’d never believe me with the that one. The problem was, I didn’t want to lie to them. It was wrong- and I’d never keep it straight. I swallowed and resigned myself to spending my time figuring out how much I could tell them. Kíli pestered me with questions the whole ride, and I resolved myself not to answer them until the next time I had something to eat. 

Around midday, bread and cheese was passed around. Fíli got some, but didn’t offer me any-to my disappointment. Kíli took his, and some extra, then gave me a calculating look, and I pretended to ignore him. He waved at me then held up bread and cheese.

“Where’s America?” He asked again, holding up the bread.

“Hand me the bread and I’ll tell you.” I countered in a pointedly blasé tone. Fíli scoffed. Kíli took the bread back.

“More for me.” He said, and began eating the portion he had offered. I was hungry. This was a dangerous game to play.

“We call my area the Pacific Northwest,” I admitted, “the Pacific is the ocean to our west.” Kíli stopped eating. He held out the last bit of bread and cheese.

I let him hold it out for a few seconds then dryly said, “if you haven’t noticed, my hands are tied, shitbag.” Kíli slowly pulled back. Fíli untied one wrist then fiddled with the rope while I ate. When I looked over his shoulder, my right hand was tied to his belt.

“Your belt?” I said incredulously. Fíli ignored me. Kíli grinned, sensing an opportunity.

“What’s the problem, is that the closest you’ve gotten to a dick?” He said. I elected to ignore him.

“Judging by the feel of him, it may be.” Fíli said and I swallowed and shifted back. “Are you uncomfortable?” There was snickering around us in the rain. I wouldn’t win so I didn’t respond. Besides, I’d given them enough for now.

We continued on through the rain for the rest of the day. Though the weather remained sodden and dark, Kíli and Fíli were mostly undeterred from their questioning. I rested against Fíli’s back, huddled close to him against the rain. When we stopped, the company took shelter among the trees. Oín and Gloín made to start a fire but Thorin miserably waved them off. They ate stale bread and old cheese. Thorin and Dwalin didn’t bother with me to my surprise, Kíli stood watch over me while Fíli went over to talk to them. The three conversed briefly, with looks over to me. Balin joined in shortly.

I was cold and wet and tired. Rubbing my hands together, I blew on them then tried to zip up my hoodie and jacket. They’d bound my wrists when we’d stopped and dismounted, so it made the process difficult, and I gave up mostly because my fingers had gone numb.

“If you want to eat, you’ll answer our questions.” Thorin said to me, snapping me out of my focus. I looked up from the ground at him. The downpour must have covered his footsteps. I opened my mouth then said the stupidest thing I could have said.

“Duh.”

Thorin didn’t react. My stomach growled between us. He smirked and held eye contact.

“Bring me food and I’ll talk asshole.” I said.

“You’ll answer my questions first.”

“I expect to have food in my hands.”

Thorin scoffed.

“I’m easily bought Thorin. It’s your own dumb mistake for not taking advantage of that earlier.” I said. Kíli sucked in a loud breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Thorin snapped.

“Bilbo gave me a bowl, so I loaned him my raincoat and answered your questions.” I said. “I’d like to think I’m a man of my word.” This would be my biggest lie to them. That I’m a man. It was too dangerous to even hint at anything otherwise. These people were living in a medieval society, and they weren’t even human. 

Thorin grunted and walked off. Dinner wouldn’t be coming then, hopefully they wouldn’t beat me tonight. I’m sure some of my bruises were dark from last night. He returned with a thick piece of bread and shoved it into my hands. I noted it was less than his company got, but who the fuck was I to complain.

“Talk.” He said curtly. 

“What do you want to know?” I said and took a bite. He started grilling me as I ate.

“Who do you work for?” 

“Currently unemployed.”

“Where are you from?”

“Told your boys.” 

Thorin reached for the bread and I snapped it back.

“‘Merica. Told you.”

“You didn’t tell me.”

I scoffed.

“I told them and that was as good as telling you.” I snapped, then shoved a piece of bread in my mouth. Thorin met my glare.

“And where is this America.” He sneered.

“Probably Northwest, given that you’re heading westwards.”

“But we’re going East-“

“Kíli!” Thorin snapped. Kíli wilted a bit as I gave him a strange look.

“The sun rises in the east.” I said to him. Kíli looked over my shoulder at Thorin and said nothing. I snorted and shrugged, turning back to Thorin.

“Well I’m fucking lost.”

Thorin scoffed and I finished my bread.

“How do you know of us?” He said.

“Told you before, just do.”

“A likely story.” Thorin sneered. I shrugged. He bristled further when I didn’t seem to react.

“A man from a land that does not exist just wanders up to my company, knowing our names and our quest.” Thorin stepping closer and backing me up to the tree.

“It’s the truth, sorry you don’t believe it.” I said.

“It’s a lie.” He snarled. My head knocked back against the bark. Thorin, though two inches shorter than me, was awfully intimidating when he was bedraggled, wet and grumpy.

“Don’t let him eat until he gives us the truth.” Thorin told Kíli. I curled up cold, wet and still a little hungry that night. It was bitter cold, and the rain chilled me to the bone, so I could not sleep.

Night passed cold and miserable, morning came gray and just as wet as the evening before. True to his word, I wasn’t given anything to eat in the morning. Bilbo shot me worried looks across camp, but I don’t think he saw any openings to slip me anything. And Gandalf warned him against it with a look. Bofur threw me up on his pony, the same tying my wrists around his waist happened. He was warmer than Fíli had been, and I found myself dozing unrestfully onto of him as we rode. The morning passed slowly in a half-awake haze.

“Gandalf!” Dori called ahead of us, rousing me from my half-asleep nap. “Can’t you do something about this deluge?”

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done.” Gandalf said from the very front of the line. “If you wish to change the weather of the world you should find yourself another wizard.” This caught Bilbo’s attention.

“Are there any?” Bilbo said.

“What?”

“Other wizards.” Bilbo called louder to be heard over the falling water.

“There are five of us.” Gandalf began. “The greatest of our order is Saruman, the white. Then there are the two blue wizards… do you know I’ve quite forgotten their names.”

“Alatar and Pallando.” I called out from my spot behind Bofur. He stiffened suddenly, and I looked up to see Gandalf staring back at me. The wizard seemed unsettled. In his discomfited wordlessness, the rain once again took the place of conversation.

“And the fifth?” Bilbo asked.

“That would be Radagast, the brown.” Gandalf continued lecturing like nothing had happened. 

“Is he a great wizard or… more like you?” Bilbo said, which brought a smile to my face. The wizard huffed, faint puffs of smoke appearing by his ears.

“I think he is a very great wizard;” Gandalf said, “in his own way. He’s a gentle soul who prefers the company of animals to others. He keeps a watchful eye over the vast forest lands to the east; and a good thing too, for always will evil look to find a foothold in this world.” I went back to resting on Bofur and tried to fall back asleep. Unfortunately, I’d met the bare minimum requirement so my hunger overruled my exhaustion for the rest of the morning.

When we paused in the afternoon, Gandalf took me off Bofur’s hands. I was too tired, hungry, and soddenly wet to do much other than slide off Bofur’s pony. The dwarf, thankfully, helped me up onto Gandalf’s horse, and the wizard slowed his riding. The company pulled on and we fell behind in the deluge. After a bit, I realized that the sound of the pony’s footsteps hd melted into the rain. The downpour made it difficult to see them ahead.

“Here,” Gandalf said gently, whisking an apple out of his sleeve, “we’re far enough away now.” I tentatively took it from him then devoured it before he had a chance to take it away. The sugar hit my bloodstream hard, but I didn’t know when next I would eat. Possibly never.

“Do people normally eat apple cores where you are from?” Gandalf said as I finished it off. I licked my fingers, then wiped my hands on my pants.

“No.” I said.

Gandalf hummed. The rain continued in its beautiful, sparkling downpour around us, lightly curtaining everything with grey streaks. It loudly beat the grass and road around us, like a snare drum. Underneath the wet sharp chill of the air was the smell of green. And Gandalf’s pipe.

“What do you want to know?” I said miserably. My stomach growled and cramped sharply. 

“Can you not accept a simple kindness when it is given?” Gandalf said. I swallowed.

“Sorry.”

“Oh none of that now.” Gandalf said. “The others may dislike you but I don’t sense anything malicious in you.”

“I made the wrong enemy.” I admitted and I flicked back my hood with my head. I was soaking anyways.

“Did you mean to?” 

“No.” I said quickly. Gandalf’s pipe clicked against his teeth in his mouth, and he smoked it calmly. The smell of weed mixed with cigarette smoke drifted past me. Gandalf stopped his horse and all three of us stayed still in the rain. My hands stung with cold and the horse let its head fall morosely. It heaved a sigh underneath us in the rain, and I wondered what was next. I had to give him something in thanks. He was blatantly going against Thorin's commands, and whether or not it truly was a selfless act of mercy like he said or he wanted to buy my trust, I had to repay him somehow.

I told him my name, then continued on, “my home is gone, but where I’m from we think all of this is a fairytale. All I know about Alatar and Pallando is that they are the blue wizards and they disappeared in the East.” For a moment, Gandalf puffed smoke.

“That’s not a bad start, for a half truth.” He said.

“I know.” I groaned.

“Perhaps you ought to tell me everything. I might be able to help.” Gandalf said.

“Home’s gone. There’s no power in this world that can bring me back.” I said. For a moment, Gandalf waited for me to say more. When I didn’t, he put away his pipe and picked up the reins. As we clopped off into the rain, I feared the company, and more importantly if I’d die in the early days of the quest.

“Thank you.” I said quietly, as we got closer to the company. Gandalf didn’t respond.

The rain gave way in the late afternoon. That lightened everyone’s spirits, and gave way to a dry camp for the evening. Fíli and Kíli scouted out a spot by the edge of a cliff, overlooking a ravine. There was shelter in the trees in case of rain, and exposed stone to build a fire pit. Gandalf dismounted and helped me down, then lead me over to Thorin, Balin and Dwalin.

“What did you talk about?” Thorin demanded as I resignedly sat down next to Dwalin.

“I told you before, a private matter.” Gandalf said.

“And what did you find out?”

I could feel Gandalf’s stare from where I sat. Bilbo toed over, a second bowl in his hands.

“I think he’s telling the truth. We may have a seer on our hands.” Gandalf said. “Regardless, he means us no harm. He’s very far from home and very lost, and I believe it may have been destroyed.” Bilbo met my eyes.

“Is that all?” Thorin demanded. I looked up at them and Gandalf pursed his lips. I stood up and stepped over to Bilbo.

“Thank you Master Baggins.” I said, accepting the bowl from his hand.

“Oh, you’re welcome Mister…”

“My name’s Dagny Conrad, but just call me Dagny. My people don’t stand on ceremony.” I said as Bilbo shifted awkwardly in place. I gave him a smile and a nod, then returned to my spot at Dwalin’s side. Gandalf had a hand on Thorin’s arm.

“So, Master Conrad is it?” Thorin stepped in front of me with a grin.

“If you feel so accomplished now, just think about how you never once asked me my name when you were beating the shit out of me earlier.” I said between mouthfuls. Kíli coughed nearby and I was delighted with a look from Thorin that could have turned yogurt to cheese. I went back to the stew, eating more hurriedly now.

“The names of liars are worthless.” Dwalin growled. Scraping clean the bowl, I sighed and set down the spoon.

“Look I can come up with some bullshit story about I’m from Gondor or Bree or something, and tell you that I’m spying for fucking orcs, or elves, or make up some pissed off evil dwarf lord who recently rose from the dead, but whether you believe it or not, I’ve told you the truth. You can continue starving me to death and find out how creative and believable I can lie with my life on the goddamn line, or you can just fucking accept that, as I have said before, I’m telling you the truth.” 

Thorin held my gaze stubbornly. 

“And you just know who we are and where we’re going?” Balin said sarcastically.

“Believe me, it’s weirder from my end.” I folded my arms. “I’d never met any of you before, Balin, and here we are.” Dwalin scoffed. The conversation stagnated and died. We hunkered down for the night, and I slept next to Fili and Kili, who kept watch over both the camp and me. With a meal in my stomach, hunger couldn’t keep me awake anymore.

A scream rang out in the dark, shaking me out of sleep. I rolled over and stared up at the blurry stars.

“What was that?” Bilbo said. A ways away. Another cry ran out in the dark and I looked across the camp at him.

“Orcs.” Kíli said, faking seriousness. A scream came from far out in the dark.

“Orcs.” Bilbo walked over to them nervously and Thorin jerked awake.

“Throat-cutters. There’ll be dozens of them out there.” Fíli chimed in with a smirk.

“As opposed to foxes, given it’s their mating season.” I interrupted them.

“You don’t mean to say that-“ Bilbo froze mid-sentence as an anguished yell rang out, “that could be a fox.”

"That one sounded exactly like a coyote.” I said.

“A what?” Kíli said.

“The lowlands are crawling with orcs.” Fíli said, trying to salvage the scary mood. 

“They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep.” I said with Kíli and then finished his line with melodramatic sarcasm. “No screams just lots of blood.” All three stared at me and I scoffed.

“They’re just fucking with you-“

“Do you think an attack by orcs is a joke?” Thorin interrupted me. Fíli and Kíli looked down. No but your nephews are. I ignored him, rolling over and pretended to sleep. Thorin chastised his nephews then kicked me.

“I know you’re not asleep.” He said. I turned up to look at him.

“And you’re a cunt, are we waking up now?” 

“No.”

“Great.” I turned back over and tried to fall asleep. After a brief pause, Thorin walked away, and Balin started fucking narrating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> True story, Middle Earth's sun rises in the west.  
> Yes the name is a psuedonym.


	2. Trolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Featuring our favorite trolls: Tom, Bert and Bill Huggins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter

Huge mining caverns spun all about me. Deep in the walls veins of silver and gold traced like lightning and water across the walls. Gemstones and ores splashed colors across them and through the rock- from close up like purple, red, and green splashes of water and waves painting the rock. From afar it looked like nebulas and galaxies spread out deep in the earth, a mirror of creation. The heavens deep in the heart of the world, underground. 

Shining out in the center of the spiral, not unlike the Milky Way, was something I could barely make out. An iridescent light in the darkness, that cast faint colors and shadows across the walls as it was revealed under skillful hands. Then it fell out from its place, and the dwarf brought it up to his face to examine it.

Someone kicked me awake, “Wake up!”

I groaned and tried to go back to sleep, but they yanked my hood off and the sun met my eyes. Someone said something, probably in Khuzdul, but it just sounded like harsh gargling to my ears.

“We leave at first light Master Conrad,” Thorin said as his nephews hauled me up, “Kíli-“

“I’ve got it uncle!” He said. I climbed up on his pony behind him and we headed off.

The day passed, thankfully, in sunshine more or less. The scattered clouds did little to change Fíli and Kíli’s optimistic moods. Unfortunately, they were somehow well awake, and cheerfully energetic. I was not. My dreams had dizzily swung between gilt, sparkling caverns and that one dwarf’s face, a face that unnerved me somehow and I didn’t know why. There was also the fact that I was still recovering from having gone the night before without sleep, and I wasn’t used to sleeping outside, on the ground, out in the cold. It might prove an issue if I could keep traveling with them.

Bofur handed Bilbo two bowls and told him to go ‘bring them to the lads.’ 

As Bilbo passed Dwalin and I by, I muttered, “beware of trolls.” Bilbo stopped, turned and looked at me. Dwalin scoffed.

“I’m sorry?” He said. I coughed and ignored him.

“Ay, it’s not a bad stew Bombur, I’ve had worse.” Gloín interrupted his brother bickering in the camp. Bombur bowed.

“Dori could have cooked it!” Nori said and the company laughed, even Dwalin. 

“Hilarious.” Dori said. He swiped at Nori and the thief dodged it. Unfortunately, the bowl of stew was made victim to his escape, spilling all over his pants and the ground. Bofur sighed and got another bowl of stew for Nori.

“He doesn’t deserve that!” Dori said.

“That’s the third bowl this week-“

“We can’t afford to spill our food in plenty, as we did in the hobbit’s house. What we carry is what we have.” Thorin interrupted Bofur, striding forward. The dwarves went quiet.

“How was the stew, Thorin?” Balin said. Thorin hair whipped Balin turning back at him, and the elder slapped him in response, laughing. Gloín and Oín started bickering again. Thorin went to stand moodily apart from the camp.

“I’m not his minder, ask Dwalin!” Gloín snapped at Oín. The silver brother immediately turned to us.

“What did he say to Bilbo?” He asked Dwalin, deadpan. I rolled my eyes and looked back at Dwalin. The stoic dwarf just scoffed.

“You think there’s trolls in these woods?” He said to me. I shrugged.

“Trolls? In these woods?” Gloín repeated. “What’d the odds be of that, Bofur?”

“It’s a rare one to be sure.” Bofur said.

“Trolls rarely come down from the highlands.” Thorin said.

“Aye, it’s a long shot. Are you thinking of betting?” Bofur said.

“I’ll take that bet.” I announced. Bofur raised an eyebrow at me and Dwalin scoffed.

“You sure?” Bofur said as Nori said, “I’ll take that bet.” I looked at the starfish head. Dori shot him a glare but Nori fixated on me.

“What are you betting?” Nori said. I looked back at where Bilbo had gone. This could be any night. It could be tomorrow night, or the night after. But I had a feeling. The woods were dark and menacing, and I would need coin if I was stuck in this world.

“I’ll bet everything I own.” I said before I could change my mind. “I’ll ride naked if I have to.” Ori wolf-whistled and was immediately hit by Dori. Nori grinned like a shark.

“Sure you don’t have anything else?” Bofur said quickly, before Nori could take it.

“What, the family silver?” I scoffed.

“You’d owe him your home, lad.” Gloín said. I shook my head.

“Home’s gone.” I gestured down at myself. “Whatcha see is whatcha get- so really, I don’t have much to lose.”

“I’ll take it.” Nori said immediately. Dori groaned aloud.

“Alright, write it down Gloín.” Bofur sighed reluctantly. Gloín pulled out a notepad and scribbled something in it. Dwalin shook his head next to me.

Fíli and Kíli crashed into camp, running at breakneck speed and toppling over each other.

“There’s trolls!” Kíli burst out.

“What?” Thorin walked over to them, gripping his sword.

“They took the ponies.” Fíli said.

“Sorry uncle.” Kíli added. Thorin’s look turned dark.

“Wait, where’s Bilbo?” Bofur said. The two looked at each other, then back at the trees. Dwalin facepalmed and cursed aloud.

“We tried to stop him, he said he’d go and steal back the ponies.” Fíli said desperately.

“Oh, so you didn’t tag-team him into trying to steal from the orcs, give him bullshit instructions to call for help, and then leave him there alone?” I said. Both of their mouths audibly clicked shut

“Will he be alright?” Oín said.

“Oh no, you should go rescue him. He’s totally gonna be eaten without you.” I said then looked at Thorin. “And trolls are a threat to your camp anyways.”

“I’m not going to leave anyone, dwarf or no, to be eaten by trolls.” Thorin snapped then turned to address the camp. “Grab your weapons!” They quickly armed themselves, and ran off. Leaving me, hands bound, sitting by the still-burning campfire. I breathed into the silence. One of the nearby ponies swished its tail as it ate. 

Pulling out my hunting knife, I flipped it open and carefully cut through the rope. They’d left all their gear behind, if I wanted to leave, this was my best chance. Take some of their stuff, a pony, make my course from there. A pony butted my shoulder, and I held the knife out of reach as it sniffed at my hands. 

“No apples for you.” I said, standing up to pet it. The pony nudged me for pets and I accommodated it. Shouting came from the forest, making its ears flick back to hear.

“Fuck it.” I cursed. Folding up my knife, I stowed it back in the front of my pants and started jogging for the dwarves and trolls, cursing all the while.

“Bilbo.” I hissed. He turned as I passed him and climbed into the makeshift paddock. Muttering to the ponies, I mounted the calmest of the lot. Bilbo finished sawing through the rope and threw open the gate. 

The ponies took off. As they sprinted the fuck away, I clung to the back of my ride and tried to calm the beast. Unfortunately, the one I’d chosen was not the fastest nor the leader, that title belongs to Minty, Queen of all Ponies. I urged mine forward and we slowly, gradually caught up to Minty. The hilly landscape and the woodland didn’t help at all.

Reaching out, I grabbed Minty’s mane. She shook me off, and we veered off and I had to catch up close to her again. Some of the other ponies had joined, and we broke out of the woods into open landscape. I briefly contemplated trying to jump onto her.

It was the dumbest thing I’d ever thought of doing- as I had never done equestrian vaulting -and neither had any of the ponies nearby. Reaching out. I grabbed her mane again, and after almost losing grip as we scaled a sudden hill, managed to get onto her back. Circling her around, I fought her back. The rest of the ponies that had left camp followed, and I went back. After a bit, I turned right when I saw the first glimmers of the trolls camp, and gradually slowed back to our Campsite. 

Dismounting, I found the bag of apples, cut it open with my knife, and half dumped it out. Then urged the ponies closer. Most of our ponies came over, the ones that didn’t seemed like they were going to stay where they were anyways. 

I went off to find the company, and see if I could help where I could. When the trolls’ fire came into view, I took off my glasses and started creeping behind growth. It was very slow going. Some of the dwarves merrily roasted on a spit, while the rest lay in a pile of sacks together with Bilbo. The trolls kept talking, and I tried to pace myself like some smaller forest creature. Ergo: not walking for a prolonged time.

“Do you smell a man?” The snotty one suddenly said. All three paused and sniffed a bit. Thorin and Balin exchanged a look, then Balin nodded at me. I backed around a tree. 

“You’re just smelling the farmer cause you’re nose is all clogged up!” The cooking troll said.

“I could have sworn-”

“That’s cause your nose is messed up.” The third interrupted Snotty.

“My nose en’t broken!” Snotty protested.

“Don’t bother cooking ’em! Let’s just sit on ’em and squash ’em into jelly!” The third said.

“No Tom, they should be sauteed and grilled with a sprinkle of sage.” Chef troll said.

“Oh, that does sound quite nice.” The third, now known as Tom Huggins, said. As the three trolls bickered, I carefully made my way towards Thorin, and the tree he was lying by. Then I pulled out my knife.

“Wait!” Bilbo jumped up, drawing everyone’s focus. “You are making a terrible mistake.” 

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!” Dori said. Thorin squirmed as I crept to him and started cutting the bag.

“Half-wits? What does that make us?” Bofur responded from the spit.

“I meant, uh, with the seasoning.” Bilbo stuttered. I had to shove a fucking hand in my mouth to stop from laughing in the silence.

“What about the seasoning?” Snotty said.

“Well, have you smelt them? You’re gonna need something stronger than sage before you plate this lot up!” Bilbo snapped. For a moment the camp went silent, then the company exploded. It gave me excellent cover to work on Thorin’s bag.

“Traitor!” Gloín shouted and the rest of the company joined in.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?” The chef troll said.

“Mr. Boggins! You betrayed us!” Kíli shouted.

“My name’s not-“

"Shut up!” Snotty interrupted Bilbo, and leaned forward to him as I pulled up Thorin to hide behind him. “Let the let the…uh, flurgerburraburra-hobbit talk.” He leaned in close to Bilbo.

“Uh, the uh, secret to cooking dwarf…” Bilbo stuttered, blown back by the awful stench of Troll breath. 

“Yes, come on.” Snotty said. The rope wasn’t fucking cutting.

“It’s uh…”

“Tell us the secret!”

“Yes! I’m telling you…” Bilbo stomped frustratedly then said the first thing that came to mind, “The secret… is to roast them with chicory!” I covered my mouth with a hand and tried to stifle my laughter. I hastily began sawing at Thorin’s bag and he hissed at me to hurry up. The rope around the mouth of the bag was too thick to cut.

"Isn't that ground up bark?" Bill said.

“I still think we ought to boil them with lemon.” A troll voice called out.

“Don’t start that again, Bill.” Tom said.

“I wasn’t starting nothing!” Chef troll, aka Bill said. I began sawing at the rope frantically.

“Here we got, decided on roasting them with, uh-“ Tom looked drunkenly at Bilbo

“Chicory.” Bilbo supplied.

“Chicanery, and you go a-arguing we ought to boil them with lemon!” Tom said.

“No good boiling them! We en’t got no water and it’s a long way to the well and all.” Snotty said.

“Shut up Bert!” Tom and Bill said in sync. Snotty, now Bert, drooped in an oddly adorable fashion.

“We haven’t got all night!” Thorin growled at me.

“What’s that?” Bert said.

“I-I said that’s alright! Boiling them with lemon and salt should do the trick nicely.” Bilbo said, glancing back at me.

“Well, we haven’t got all night. Sun’s coming up soon.” Tom said, raising his mug to the sky.

“Alright, that’s enough groggy for the likes of you.” Bill swiped at the cup and Tom downed it in one go, then burped and farted. The dwarves on the spit started cursing up a storm and I gagged.

“I still like the idea of sautéing them.” Bert said. “With a sprinkling of Sage and Chicanery.”

“That does sound lovely.” Tom said.

“Well you’d think so, you suggested it.” Bill said, turning the spit.

“I did?” Tom said, then fell back over. Bert grabbed Dwalin’s mattock and hit Tom’s head. The sound rang out like it had hit solid stone.

“I’m awake!” Tom shouted.

“We should just squash them into jelly.” A troll voice said.

“Not again!” Tom and Bert said in sync.

“What?” Bill said.

“You’s-“ Tom started in a drunken slur.

“You just said we should squash them into jelly!” Bert said, pushing Bill back with a snotty finger in his chest.

“That was you, dumb nut.” Bill said.

“Tom, tell Bill I didn’t say it.” Bert said, then they looked at Tom.

“What?” Tom said.

“He’s sloshed, who should we eat first?” Bill said.

“Oooh! I call the fat one!” Bert said and practically danced around the fire to Bombur. Balin scooted back and sat up next to Thorin, as I hunched over beneath them.

“What’s up with you?” Bill said, suddenly noticing Thorin and Balin. Bilbo locked eyes with me, then opened his mouth to talk with them.

“Just, sitting up. I have a bad back.” Balin said breezily. Bert shrugged and grabbed Bombur.

“Not that one!” Bilbo shouted as both dwarf and troll turned to him. “Uh, he, he’s infected!” Tom through Bombur away

“You what?”

“He’s got-worms! In his… tubes!” Bilbo stuttered in a panic. “In-in fact, they all have. They’re infested with parasites, it’s a terrible business, I wouldn’t risk it, I really wouldn’t.” He recovered. I snickered behind Thorin as his company began shouting in argument. 

“Thorin!” I hissed. Thorin kicked Kíli. The camp went silent. Then the company burst into shouting, everyone- even Dwalin and Bombur- chiming in. There was some guttural noise beneath the clamor as Bifur joined in. I sliced through Thorin’s sack and he suddenly tensed.

“What would you have us do then? Let ’em all go?” One of the trolls leaned in towards Bilbo and I shrunk back behind the dwarves.

“Well…” Bilbo glanced my direction and then quickly looked away. Nice going fucker.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to. This little ferret is taking us for fools!” The Troll shoved Bilbo back with one massive finger in his chest.

“Ferret?” Bilbo squeaked.

“Dawn take you all and to stone with you!” Gandalf shouted and there was a loud crack. Blinding light shone out around us as I blinked rapidly. The trolls shouted and I sat up behind the two dwarves. The family of trolls painfully, with the sound of cracking thunder and grinding stone, took their final positions in death.

“Three cheers for Mr. Boggins!” Kíli shouted as the company laughed.

“My name isn’t Boggins!” Bilbo snapped at Kíli.

“You lied about that too?” 

“Do you need help with the ropes or have you got it;” I said to Thorin and moved over to Balin, “I’ll try to miss your beard, Master Balin.” The banter continued on around us as Kíli argued with Bilbo.

“Thank you lad.” Balin said and I cut open his sack. Thorin revealed two perfectly usable, and very untied, hands. He untied his elder, and then Balin confiscated my knife. 

“Not to cut the celebration short, but would you cut us down?” Dwalin said.

“I believe I can help with that Master Dwalin.” Gandalf said. He walked over to the fire and thumped his staff in the fire pit. The flames abruptly went out. Then Gandalf knocked over one of the supports for the spit, and the pile of dwarves fell with a lot of cursing. Bombur, as seemed to be usual, ended up on top. 

I sat down as they helped each other, suddenly dizzy from the lack of sleep. Had the night really passed that quickly? Whatever. In the early morning chill, I rubbed warmth into my hands futilely, then gave up and shoved my fists under my armpits. 

“Master Conrad,” Dori said, walking up to me with a very glum looking Nori at his side, “I believe we have a debt to settle.” Ori shuffled behind them awkwardly. Standing up, I started wiggling my toes inside of my boots for warmth. Dori shook Nori angrily, hissing something in Khuzdul.

“You own all of mine and my family’s.” Nori said glumly.

“Oh. Shit-wait, no. Hand me your fuckin’ coin purse Nori.” I said. He huffed and pulled out a rather hefty one, and I almost dropped it, cursing. Dori huffed when Nori kicked him. I pulled out a handful of coins, then handed it back.

“Debt paid.” I said.

“But, you bet all you own.” Ori said. 

“Yeah, and this is probably worth all I own;” I looked down at the coins, “more, in my country.”

“Pardon me, but we don’t need your charity. And the Ri’s pay off our debts.” Dori snapped angrily with a step forward. I looked down at the dwarf coolly.

“My understanding of the bet was that if you lost, it would be reciprocated with something of equal worth as to everything I own. I don’t need your shit, and it’s not charity that I give it back to you. Besides, I knew there was trolls in the woods, so I technically cheated.” I said.

“How?” Nori demanded.

“Just do.”

Dori looked about to argue but Nori stepped in front of him abruptly, “you have our thanks, Master Ward.” I walked away as the two quarreled, Ori in attendance. 

“The knife,” Thorin said, “you had this all along?” He held my pocket knife in his hands. I stopped dead in my tracks. Thorin opened it and examined the blade, then the mechanism. Behind him, Bofur and Bombur helped hoist Bifur into his pants. Something about them looked familiar.

“Well?” He said to my silence.

“It was my father’s.” I admitted. Thorin raised an eyebrow and held my gaze. We both knew it wasn’t an answer, but the metal looked so cheap and fragile in his hands, in a way it never had before. He could snap it to pieces. It was my only weapon, and he held it in my hands.

“Your father was a hunter?” Thorin said. Dad was an engineer. He would have been a carpenter in the Middle Ages, or a blacksmith.

“My father died.” I said. He saw my anxiety. It was a blatant play on his sympathies, he didn’t need to know that I knew he’d lost his father, nor did he know that I knew. 

“Why didn’t you use it before?” Dwalin approached from my shoulder and made me jump. I sidestepped him shakily. There were actual real-life trolls.

“I was waiting for the right time.” I said. “The opportune moment to slip away.” There were thirteen of them and one of me.

“And now?” Thorin said.

“Think I’ll fucking survive out there in the wild on my own?” I looked past them at the giant stone trolls, frozen in terror at the sunlight. They had once been living things. Evil, or at least cruel, and they had been alive only a few minutes ago. I would have died had I met them on my own. But I wasn’t certain that it was worth their complete and total loss of life. Turning to stone was a truly terrible way to go. He nodded, and handed back my knife.

Gandalf knocked his staff against one of the trolls and harrumphed, turning to us. Thorin walked up to him.

“Where did you go to, if I may ask?” Thorin said.

“To look ahead.” Gandalf said. 

“What brought you back?”

Gandalf eyed Thorin and said, “Looking behind.” Thorin nodded, and I realized that he was backing off. It was unwise to pry into the affairs of wizard.

“Nasty business,” Gandalf said, tucking his hands into his belt, “still they’re all in one piece.”

“No thanks to your burglar.” Thorin pointed out. Gandalf looked down at him in disappointment, and I saw Bilbo hide behind him.

“He had the nous to play for time.” He said. “None of the rest of you thought of that.” Thorin sighed and looked down. They turned to the frozen trolls. Their stone faces, grimacing in something between violence and pain.

“They must have come down from the Ettenmoors.” Gandalf commented.

“Since when the mountain trolls venture this far south?” Thorin said and Gandalf muttered a response that I couldn’t overhear. They stared at the trolls for a moment.

“Ah!” Gandalf exclaimed. “Don’t you realize that the trolls must have a cave nearby to hide from the sun in?”

“There must be a troll hoard nearby.” Thorin said and promptly walked off. Dwalin bumped my shoulder, then nodded at Thorin. I rolled my eyes at him and was hit round the back of my head.

“Fuck, I’m going asshole!” I said, following Thorin.

“Someone needs to teach you manners.” Dwalin said behind me.

“Indeed.” Gandalf said as he passed us by. I shook my head and we followed Thorin as he searched for the cave. The whole company trailed behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chicory is an herb, the roots are generally the part people use.  
> Chicanery is deception or trickery.  
> Bill is thinking of Cinnamon, which is in fact, the bark of a cinnamon tree.


	3. Radagast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter.

We all tromped off after Thorin through the forest. I was close to the front with Dwalin hovering over my shoulder, so he could keep an eye on me and watch Thorin’s back. Gandalf kept pace with Thorin ahead of us, both looking through the brush. Behind us, Bilbo and Bombur followed, and behind them, the rest of the company walked with greater or lesser exuberance. Admittedly, most of them were not excited to go troll-cave-hunting. In particular, Dori stayed far to the back with Oín and wore a strictly disgusted look on his face. He kept a firm grip on Ori, who seemed too cowed by his brother to say anything. Poor Ori periodically got on his tip-toes to try and see ahead.

“Silly time to go practicing pinching and pocket-picking,” Bombur said to Bilbo, “when what we wanted was fire and food!”

“And that’s just what you wouldn’t have got from those trolls!” Gandalf whirled around and snapped at Bombur. The two stopped dead in their tracks. They stared up at Gandalf in shock, and fear in Bombur's case. Bilbo’s mouth dropped in complete surprise at how hard and fast Gandalf went to bat for him.

“Here, there’s a door!” Thorin shouted. He slammed against it and Dwalin jogged over to help.

“Come on!” Dwalin growled. Gloín ran up from the back of the company, in spite of his brother groaning out his name. Ori was held back with cut off protest and Dori quickly crushed any argument that was going to come from Ori’s mouth. Gloín hurriedly joined Bofur and Nori to help force open the door, but before the first shove Dwalin pushed Nori back from Thorin. Thief and Guard locked eyes for a brief moment then Nori relocated to the other side of the small group-away from Thorin’s side.

“There must be a key around here somewhere.” Gandalf said as the dwarves began heaving at the door. Bilbo turned around along with some members of the company, though only he and Ori seemed to really be trying to find a key. Most of the dwarves barely even pretended to look for one, if they even bothered trying. Then Bilbo crawled into a hawthorn bush.

“Is this it?” He came out, hand first, holding an enormous key. Gandalf made a delighted sound (one that brought to mind birds trilling rather than an old, tall man with a deep voice) and Bilbo followed him over to the cave. Fíli nudged me and I reluctantly followed him over to the mouth of the cave and sat on a disgusting rock. Nori made to go in first, but Dwalin pushed him back.

“Fíli- watch the camp, Kíli- the man. This time no joking, else I send you back to your mother!” Thorin said, then tromped into the cave. Gandalf, Bilbo and Dwalin followed, then Nori, Bofur and Gloín quickly went after them. The rest of the company turned back, or stayed away, too put off by the smell. Kíli and Bifur stood by my side, going through some extra shit while Fíli walked off to get a better watch. They muttered in Khuzdul while we all waited for them to come out of the nasty, disgusting troll cave.

“So Master Conrad-” Kíli began.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, just call me Conrad if you fucking insist on formality you insufferably stuffy people.” I snapped. 

“Do you have any family?” He finished. Flies hung in the air around us, blanketing us in the sound of constant buzzing.

“I have a brother and my mom.” I said. Bifur said something in Khuzdul. The light dappled through the trees, and despite the stench, I was glad to be in the woods. It had been a long time since I’d been suffused in such wonderful raw greenery.

“That can’t be true- not all men have one mother and one father. It’s a rumor, Conrad doesn’t.” Kíli said to Bifur. Gandalf came out and called for Bilbo nearby, presenting him with Sting- though it wasn’t Sting yet. 

“Dad’s dead.” I said.

“Sorry,” Kíli said as Bifur grumbled out something, “I lost mine too.” He looked down, setting down the pots that Bifur handed him. Bifur handed him a necklace, and Kíli passed it onto me. I pocketed it, to his amusement.

“And you Bifur,” I turned to the other dwarf cheerily, “anyone waiting for you back home?” Bifur responded with something in pure Khuzdul and I looked at Kíli for clarification. The little shit smirked and didn’t translate. 

“Asshole.” I said easily. Bifur laughed loudly at that and said something in Khuzdul.

“Oy, that’s not fair!” Kíli said, hitting Bifur’s arm with a metallic smack.

“Something’s coming!” Thorin called out behind me. The dwarves around us rallied, Bofur and Bombur stopped arguing wherever they were. Deep in the trees, Radagast’s sled rustled through the undergrowth. 

“Hurry now!” Gandalf said. Bifur shot off with the company, rejoining his brothers. Fíli passed Kíli by and the two sprinted forward together. I started tiredly running to keep up, and ended side-by-side with Balin.

“Why the fuck does it have to be this guy.” I muttered under my breath. Balin looked at me sharply, and I cursed. Pulling forward before he could question me, I came to a stop beside the rustling bush. Dwalin shouted a command and the dwarves bristled with weaponry.

“Thieves! Fire! Murder!” Radagast and his sleigh plowed out of the shrubbery, pulled by several short stocky warthogs, and a few giant fucking rabbits in the lead. They weren’t shaped right for hares, they were giant rabbits the size of a chunky house-cat to a medium dog. The rabbit of death from Monty Python and the Holy Grail was just a rabbit, not these. These things made you realize that the only reason those extra fluffy fat rabbits people have don’t look threatening is because they’re small. 

“Radagast!” I squeaked in surprise. He snapped out of whatever he was in and rounded on me. 

“Do I know you?” Radagast pointed at me. I shook my head, wishing I could be anywhere else. Gandalf watched us. The brown wizard dismounted and walked over to me, only to have Thorin put himself between us. Four foot ten of bristling dwarf unfortunately didn’t block my view, and it should have made me feel better than it did. The capacity to look slightly down at Thorin rather than up or directly at him when he was angry made him look more adorable than menacing. A dangerous mistake, I know.

“I like you!” Radagast exclaimed in excitement, and opened his mouth to say more. 

“Radagast!” Gandalf interrupted, drawing the wizard away. “Radagast the brown!” He sheathed his sword with a smile. 

“What are you doing here?” Gandalf walked over to Radagast, his voice quickly souring after the initial joy of seeing an old friend.

“I was looking for you Gandalf. Something’s wrong-“

“How do you know the wizard?” Thorin muttered in my ear as Radagast rambled.

“Oh no, here it comes.” I shielded my eyes and looked away from them. Thorin cringed back at my side as Gandalf pulled a walking-stick from Radagast’s mouth. 

“Radagast and I have things to discuss, wizard business,” Gandalf looked around and took Radagast’s hand as I met his eyes, “wait here.” They walked off before Thorin could say anything. The dwarf rounded on me.

“How do you know the wizard?” Thorin demanded.

“I have one better, how did he know that there were trolls in the woods?” Dwalin walked over to us, arms crossed. I stepped back unconsciously and Thorin grabbed my arm.

“He knew it was the wizard before Radagast had arrived.” Balin put in and Bilbo added on: “I heard it to!”

“And he told us that he knew about the trolls, just a bit ago!” Dori said. “There’s some dark magic about him no doubt!” Thorin looked at me and waited for my response.

“Just knew.” I squeaked out in a half whisper.

Dwalin cursed in Khuzdul.

“No more lies.” Thorin hissed, grabbing and twisting my collar as my knees buckled. His angry face loomed over me, filling the sky like a menacing god. I opened my mouth to ask if he was going to beat me again.

“Ori’s gonna come back saying that the ponies are gone, they’ve bolted- I’m sorry. I should have stayed and lead them back myself but I’m an idiot. Howls will sound and then a horn and two wargs will come out of nowhere, one from over there, and one from there- there’s an orc pack after you and I’m sorry I lied that night with the screaming it wasn’t foxes, it was their scouts but your nephews are idiots-“ I gasped for breath, “when Gandalf and Radagast come back I believe their lines are- Gandalf will say ‘these are Gundabad wargs, they’ll outrun you’ and Radagast will say ‘these are Rhosgobel rabbits, I’d like to see them try’ and after he leads them off we’ll follow behind between the rocks and we’ll end up going back and forth a bit because Radagast is zig-zagging between the rocks trying to keep them off him until we end up hiding kind of under-slash-beside a rock and one of their scouts creeps up on it and you have Kíli shoot both warg and orc but not before the orc screams, alerting them to our position and then Gandalf will lead us forward presumably to safety.” I finished rambling as fast as I could get it out. Thorin scoffed in my face and then a howl rang out. 

“Was that a wolf?” Bilbo said as the company fanned out, looking around. “Are there wolves out there?” Another howl rang out.

“Wolves, no that is not a wolf.” Bofur said clutching his pickaxe.

“Bofur!” Thorin shouted as a warg crept up, growling behind the two. It leapt out for Bofur and Thorin met it, slicing it open from collarbone to jaw. He shouted for Kíli as my knees hit dirt and the other warg went down by his side. Thorin and Dwalin finished it off. Gandalf returned among us with Radagast.

“Warg scouts,” Thorin gritted out as he ripped Orcrist from its body, “which means an orc pack is not far behind!”

“Orc pack?” Bilbo said.

“Who did you tell about your quest beyond your kin?” Gandalf demanded.

“No one-“ Thorin sneered looking at me.

“Who did you tell!”

“No one, I swear!" Said Thorin, stepping up to him. In sync, their eyes fell on me.

“What in Durin’s Name is going on?” Thorin said, looking between Gandalf and I. Dwalin whispered something gutturally under his breath and Balin shot Thorin a glare, fists clenched.

“You are being hunted.” Gandalf said as I stood up and brushed off my knees.

“We have to get out of here.” Dwalin growled.

“We can’t! We have no ponies!” Ori said, skidding to a stop. “They bolted!” A horn howled out in the distance.

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast said, already on his sleigh.

“These are Gundabad Wargs, they’ll outrun you.” Gandalf turned on him.

“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits,” Radagast smirked, “I’d like to see them try.” I stifled a hysterical giggle then the calls of the pack hunting us rang out. Radagast drove his sleigh away, doing what looked like trademark thicket teleportation trick before Gandalf could strategize with him. 

“Alright, gather what you can from camp-“

“There’s no time!” Thorin interrupted Gloín.

“This way, hurry!” Gandalf said and ran off, leaving us to follow. We stopped by a big rock and Thorin put a hand on my chest, stopping me right there. On the other side of the rock, Radagast burst from the thicket, leading the warg pack away. Gandalf watched intently.

“We shouldn’t take him with us. He could be a spy!” Balin said.

“If you’re gonna leave me here to die, at least do me the dignity of killing me now, rather than leaving me for the orcs.” I said. Thorin opened his mouth to respond.

“Come on!’ Gandalf interrupted the debate and I ran with them out.

We went out in the open, Thorin leading us directly to an outcropping of rocks. I kept to the middle of the group. Lack of food, water and most importantly sleep made it hard to move myself. The sun was hot, and as a result of my general starvation, I alternated between feeling the blazing heat or freezing cold in every shadow of every rock or dwarf. There was no in between. Let that be a lesson to anyone thinking of dieting before talking to a licensed nutritionist.

I focused on keeping the ground beneath my feet. Stopping when they did, as we half darted between rocks, then finally turned around moments before they did. We headed back and away from the wargs as Thorin shouted behind me. They picked up the pace, panting, sweating and clinking around me. 

Balin had the audacity to match my pace and tell me, “if you don’t keep up you’ll be left behind.” The old asshole. As if there was any doubt- but I didn’t have breath to spare to tell him so.

“Ori no! Get back.” Thorin raggedly screamed ahead of us, yanking Ori back as the dwarves stopped. I put my hands on my knees and focused on breathing while Gandalf looked around. Balin stayed by my side.

“Quickly, come on! Come on!” Gandalf said and waved us in a different direction. Thorin stopped by his side as I followed the rest of the company and passed him by. Head down, I kept running. Gandalf and Thorin passed me by again, heading us off at an angle. I hit a hill, and as we crested it, I was dragged over with the rest to hide. Bofur yanked me back and I was squished between him, Dwalin’s arms and Bilbo behind. I covered my mouth, heaving as my nose burned from heavy breathing. Growling came behind us. 

Thorin nodded at Kíli. I opened my mouth to warn him but Bombur came out of nowhere and socked me in the gut while Thorin clamped a hand over my mouth and nose. Kíli drew his bow, took aim and fired twice. 

Both warg and orc fell down, and Thorin’s hand left my mouth as he went to help eviscerate the things. I rested against the rock, shut my eyes, and turned my face up to fresher air than Bombur’s concentrated stench of sweaty dwarf. The sounds of them killing echoed around the rocks across the landscape. The two enemies screamed and whined. 

When they had gone silent, a command in black speech rang out. Then the call of the pack turned our way.

“Run!” Gandalf shouted, and we did. I followed as he lead us in a new direction. We passed hills and continued in a straight path through sparse trees. Long grass whipped against my legs. I tried to pace myself but that only lead me to falling behind. We stopped when they headed us off as we crested a hill.

“There they are!” Gloín said.

“This way, quickly!” Gandalf ran in another direction and we followed. Spots danced across my vision.

The pack soon surrounded us, and wiping sweat from my brow, I stopped. Thorin shouted for Kíli to shoot them as I pulled out a knife and prepared to make my last stand. Ripping off my necklace, I flipped the pendant open to a smaller, shittier knife. It was entirely bought for novelty and was practically useless, but a knife in competent hands makes you ten times dangerous. 

“We’re surrounded!” Fíli shouted and Kíli shot down an orc. “Where’s Gandalf?” I backed up as we were hemmed closer in.

“He’s abandoned us!” Dwalin shouted, running to Thorin’s side. Ori caught my eye.

“The orc!” I shouted at him, running forward. Ori changed his aim abruptly and shot the orc off his warg. The two growled, approaching and I took a stand by his side.  
“Hold your ground!” Thorin shouted, his sword literally singing in the air as he unsheathed it.

“Good shot.” I muttered to him, as both Orc and Warg approached us, separately. 

“This way you fools!” Gandalf shouted behind me. Oh right, Rivendell. Cursing, I grabbed Ori and dragged him back, running to the rocks. I shoved the scribe in ahead of me when the point of Thorin’s sword stopped me from following.

“My company first.” He growled as I turned around to stand aside and wait. Dwarves hurtled past and Gandalf counted them in the cave. Kíli shot orcs, covering us. Finally, even Dwalin passed us by.

“Kíli, run!” Thorin screamed. Kíli, arrow knocked, ran towards me when a blond blur tackled me into the cave out of nowhere. I quickly let go of my knives on the way down, and then scrambled further back into the cave. My head hit a rock on the way down. Bofur grabbed my arm and the world spun a bit. The horns of the elves drew his attention outside, and I shook him off to dizzily head down the path. 

“Ah!” Dwalin shouted behind me as he missed my arm. “The man’s gone. I cannot see where the pathway leads, do we follow it?” He called back.

“Follow it of course!” Bofur said behind me. Then with much clinking, clanking, grumbling and what sounded like stomping, the dwarves walked behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the dwarvish jingle- CLOMP CLOMP CRASH JINGLE-JANGLE CLINKETY-CLONKETY until you get wherever you're going, then there's a loud crack and two dwarves lying on the floor.


	4. The Dinner-party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings for this chapter

Rivendell lay before us in a majestic sprawl of delicate arches perched precariously on the side of sharp hills. Waterfalls spread out in a billowing spray underneath the villa-esque buildings, living erosion pulling the land out underneath them. The earth seemed like it would be washed away down into the valley in a few years or less and yet Rivendell had stood like this for a thousand. At the bottom of the gorge, water recollected and split apart into repetitions of streams and tributaries. It meandered through the lush green grass and wildflowers, before eventually vanishing as the gardening gradually gave way to woodland.

“The Valley of Imladris,” Gandalf narrated aloud, “in the common tongue it is known by another name.” Bilbo sighed out Rivendell in an undertone filled with wonder. The hilt of Thorin’s axe plonked by me. I leaned against the stone face.

“This was your intention all along,” Thorin said and his boots grit against the stone beneath as he turned to face Gandalf, “to seek refuge with our enemy.”

“You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself.” Gandalf said. The company shuffled in front of me, trying to subtly listen in and failing abominably.

“You think the elves will give our quest their blessing?” Thorin said incredulously.

“Then don’t tell them.” I said, looking back up at him, and Thorin looked down at me in disgust. “Duh.”

“You mean lie.”

“No, I mean just don’t tell them.”

“Exactly Master Conrad. Besides, we have questions that need to be answered.” Gandalf cut in then turned to me with a sudden idea. “Unless you can read this map?”

“Cartography is not one of my skills.”

“Then it’s settled.” Gandalf said and puffed up like an owl trying to make itself look bigger. “If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact. And respect. And no small degree of charm” I snorted “which is why you will leave the talking to me.” Gandalf glared down at me.

“And what if they discover our purpose?” Thorin said.

“Simple,” I said standing up, “Gandalf distracts them, you sneak out.”

“And you?” Thorin said.

“If you don’t let me come with you, then I’ll be staying here.” 

“And tell the elves everything no doubt.” Thorin growled, stepping into my face. I smelt unbrushed teeth and pipe smoke in his breath. The unpleasantness ruined any threatening aura he was trying to project. Disgust must have shown on my face as his eyes lit up with offense.

“Jesus Christ dude, you really think the world is out to get you.” I said in lieu of any pledge of loyalty. Thorin scoffed, then abruptly noticed the rest of the company not even trying to pretend like they weren’t listening in. They were loyal to their leader but clearly unwilling to go against the advice of a wizard.

“We’ll head into the valley.” Thorin decided reluctantly. Gandalf humphed with a smile, and went forward to lead us on the pathway down. Thorin followed him, and the rest of the company slowly trailed behind. I leaned against the rock wall, rubbing my temples tiredly. My dehydration was rapidly becoming a problem, and a migraine was making itself known.

“They’re leaving.” Bilbo said. I looked down at him, then walked with him at the back of the company.

The path was rough and Gandalf lead us down a steep incline through the trees. Rivendell and sunlight gleamed through the leaves, and it would have been lovely if not for the fact I felt like I was dying of thirst. We exited the woods and reunited with the main road. 

“Are you alright?” Bilbo said, grabbing my arm when I stumbled.

“Tired. Thirsty.” I said. He pulled out a small leather canteen and handed it to me. Rather than say anything, I chugged the whole thing and held it out to him with a muttered thanks. Bilbo took it back with wide eyes.

Rivendell was revealed before us from the flora like something out of a song. It sprawled out much closer now, like some elegant painting of a beautiful man or woman lounging on a satin-covered chaise. The few verandas and balconies were placed to easily look out over the valley and the river. As we crossed the bridge, roaring water tempted me below. I honestly desperately wanted to throw myself into the river. Upon entrance to an elevated courtyard, Bilbo stopped and stared around. 

“Smells of elves.” Bilbo muttered. I abruptly sat down next to him, exhausted. Thorin whispered to stay sharp. Somewhere faintly in the background, I felt like there was a music I was not hearing, or could barely make out.

“Mithrandir.” Lindir called out behind us. Bilbo turned around to catch his first sighting of elves.

“Ah, Lindir.” Gandalf said. I heard Thorin whisper “who’s this” and I looked behind me to see Dwalin shake his head. 

“Lastannen i athrannedh i Vruienen.” Lindir said. Standing up at my side, Bilbo openly stared. So was the rest of the company.

“I must speak with Lord Elrond.” 

“My Lord Elrond is not here.”

“Not here… where is he?” Gandalf said.

Horns sounded out in the valley and nothing in the movie, or any other sound heard by mortal man, compares to those elvish horns. They echoed in soaring volleys off the rocks. The sound was rich and deep, but somehow as it ricocheted through the valley the rocks split apart delicate high notes and soaring low orchestral rumbles from the original sound. It was like playing a trumpet in a cave, except the overlapping echoes played out the most beautiful and soulful version of Ode to Joy that you can imagine. It rebounded through the valley, in perfectly resonating brief orchestra, then swiftly dissipated. 

I looked up and saw Elrond charging forward with his knights flowing behind.

“Ifridi du Bekar!” Dwalin shouted.

“Close ranks!” Thorin said. Elrond lead the charge down the bridge on a beautiful black horse. Oín fumbled a hand at my shoulder as I hurriedly stood up and got back. He and Bofur slammed in front of us as Elrond, startled by our appearance, performed some excellent horsemanship to avoid hitting us. It was beautiful. 

They rushed in as a river cuts across flatland. His horse barreled towards us and Elrond redirected him to the side, applying pressure to help the horse stay on track, while slowing his steed down using only his seat. The other elves in his company performed similar excessive feats of horsemanship, but the first time I saw it was not dulled by the next. Nor the second. Or the third. The mounted company circled us, keeping their horses paces in synchrony while progressively decelerating. They trotted around us two counter-revolving circles, calming their horses and slowing to a gradual stop.

“Gandalf!” Elrond said happily. 

“Lord Elrond,” Gandalf said and I turned around to see him execute a bow, “Mellonnen! Mo evínedh?” The more I stared at Elrond, the more I felt like there was something, something like music growing.

“Farannem ‘lamhoth i udul o charad.” Elrond said and flipped his cloak aside to dismount in perfect synchrony with the other riders. “Dagannem rim na Iant Vedui.” He walked over to Gandalf and the two friends hugged briefly, as another elf took Elrond’s reins. “Strange for orcs to come so close to our borders.” He said to Gandalf and held up a wrapped orcish blade. “Something, or someone, has drawn them near.” Elrond handed the blade to a baffled Lindir and turned back to Gandalf. 

“Ah, that may have been us.” Gandalf said, and the two turned to our company. Elrond looked over the company and his eyes fell on Thorin as the dwarves stepped forward. Lindir awkwardly handed the wrapped orc-sword off to one of his staff and whispered to them silently. The elf bore it away.

“Welcome Thorin son of Thráin.” Elrond said stepping forward.

“I do not believe we have met.” Thorin said coolly.

“Don’t do it motherfucker.” I cursed under my breath as Elrond said: “you have your grandfather’s bearing. I knew Thrór when he ruled under the mountain.” 

“Indeed, he made no mention of you.”

I facepalmed and snickered. Elrond was silent for a moment, surveying the company. His riders lead the horses away, something I only caught because though elves were soundless, the horses were not.

“Nartho i noer, toltho i viruvor. Boe i annam vann a nethail vin.” Elrond said, looking Thorin dead in the eyes. I stifled another snicker.

“What is he saying? Does he offer us insult!” Gloín said, riling the company.

“No Master Gloín, he is offering you food.” Gandalf interceded. The company leaned in together. I ended up smushed in an underhanded debate between Bilbo, Bifur, and Bofur. Bombur grabbed onto Bilbo and Bifur’s packs to listen in over Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Do we trust him?” Bofur said. I overheard Thorin whisper “we use the toilets and leave” to Dwalin.  
Nori said behind my back, “this could turn profitable if we play it right.”

“And we lost most of our supplies with the ponies.” Kíli leaned in to the thief as I turned around.

“It’s food.” Bilbo said, now behind me, to the ‘ur brothers after Bifur finished grumbling.

“I’ll keep Dwalin off your back if you split the profits.” Gloín said to Nori.

“Done.” Nori said. The company turned back to Elrond, all their little debates finished.

“Uh, well. In that case, lead on.” Gloín said. Lord Elrond, with Gandalf at his side, lead us up the stairs. Bilbo started shoving past the dwarves and me as the company went forward, a perfect example of proper hobbit priorities.

What followed was long introductions and lots of pleasantries, particularly for Gandalf, and the two heirs of kings, Elrond and Thorin. After a bit, the three went off to discuss whatever nobility discusses in absence of its lessers, and our company was left under Balin’s guidance with Lindir. The elf offered to have the companies’ packs moved to their rooms while they ate, but the dwarves refused to be parted from them. After lots of debating and pleasantries back and forth, Lindir gave up trying to out-debate Balin and lead us to the dining room. Bifur put a hand to my back and pushed me forward so seated at the end of a table between him and Nori.

“I don’t like green food.” Ori said at the other table, folding his arms and shaking his head like a child.

“Where’s the meat?” Dwalin said as I immediately dug in. 

“Have they got any chips?” Ori called quietly. I kept going, spearing some bits of egg on my fork. Nori elbowed me.

“What?” I said.

“How can you eat that?” Dwalin said incredulously. I looked around at the table and noticed nobody had touched their salads, except Bifur. I pointed to my right.

“He has an axe coming’ out of his face.” Bofur pointed out and Bifur grunted out something in Khuzdul. “He’s a bit touched.”

“Well, food is food and I’m starving.” I said, holding up my hands, then went back to eating.

“Kind of you to invite us,” Gandalf said as he passed us all by with Elrond and Thorin, “I’m not really dressed for dinner.” Bofur looked over at Kíli and then at all of the elven musicians that the dwarf was caught up in.

“Well, you never are.” Elrond said. Gandalf chuckled awkwardly as Thorin followed them up to the high table. I finished my salad and Kíli switched plates with me, then noticed the harpist. He was briefly hypnotized by the elf, then made eyes at them as though to recover his dignity. I snickered as Dwalin glared at him, directly in the line of eyesight.

“Can’t say I fancy elf-maids myself, too thin. They’re all high cheekbones and creamy skin…” Kíli looked over at Bofur and the dwarf gave him a humoring smile, “although, that one there’s not bad.” I looked up at the harpist as they passed behind me

“That’s not an elf maid.” Dwalin said, leaning forward on his arms with a thunk. Kíli stared at him in hopeless confusion. Dwalin winked stone-faced and shook his head. Oín started laughing and Bofur nervously joined in, eyeing Dwalin. It spread to the rest of the company, even Bombur, though that may have been his joy at stealing all of the dinner rolls from the platter of an elven server. I met his eyes from the other end of the other table and pointed from my eyes to his with a glare. Bombur was too caught up in the ecstasy of eating to see my vow of vengeance.

“It’s funny.” Kíli muttered meekly. He looked around, nodding awkwardly and I gave him a sympathetic look. Oín used a salad leaf like a fan. The flutist paused by him and dipped to make sure he could hear, so Oín stuffed a napkin in his ear trumpet. She moved on. He gave a thumbs up to Bofur and they chuckled. I mouthed an apology to the flutist, but she didn’t acknowledge it.

“How did you come by these?” Elrond exclaimed as Gandalf and Thorin handed over their swords.

“We found them in a troll hoard, on the Great East road.” Gandalf said.

"These are not troll-make.” Elrond said at the high table, marveling at Gandalf and Thorin’s swords. “They are old swords, very old swords of the High Elves of the West-my kin.” He added the last bit, glancing at Thorin then went on. “They were made in Gondolin for the Goblin-wars. This, Thorin, the runes name Orcrist, the Goblin-cleaver in the ancient tongue of Gondolin; it was a famous blade,” he handed it back to Thorin and the dwarf dipped his head in response, “and this, Gandalf, was Glamdring, Foe-hammer that the king of Gondolin once wore. Keep them well!" 

“When did you find them?” Elrond said.

“Oh, a night or two ago. It was shortly before we were ambushed by the orc-band you dispatched.” Gandalf said.

“Not quite so, when we counted the dead, two had escaped,” Elrond said; “and what were you doing on the Great East Road?” Thorin abruptly excused himself from the high table. He walked back to us, arms crossed and frowning. Gandalf stuttered and mumbled something to Elrond, while Balin talked to Bilbo.

“Thirteen dwarves,” Elrond toasted to us, “a halfling and a man;” his eyes, for the second time today, fell on me; “strange traveling companions, Gandalf.”

“These are the descendants of the house of Durin!” Gandalf said enthusiastically. “They’re noble, decent folk.” Nori used the pepper shaker on my salad.

“Seriously?” I said to him, then realized it wasn’t pepper that came out. It was sesame seeds. He shrugged at me and pocketed it under the eyes of every elf in the room. 

“They’re surprisingly conscious*.” Gandalf said, then glanced at Nori. “They’ve got a deep love of the arts.” 

“Change the tune why don’t you;” Nori turned back to the… string-instrument player behind him, “I feel like I’m at a funeral.” He stuck a finger in his ear and Oín jumped, leaning forward.

“Did somebody die?” Oín said.

“Alright lads, there’s only one thing for it!” Bofur said as the flutist passed behind him. He got up, stood up on the little pedestal in the middle of the room- holy shit. That was The Pedestal at the council of Elrond. Will be, at least. The one that Frodo lays the ring on in The Fellowship.

“There’s an…” Bofur held out his hand to Elrond, stopping all music and conversation, then launched into song: 

> _“…inn, there’s an inn, there’s a merry old inn,  
>  beneath an old grey hill!  
>  And there they brew a beer so brown  
>  That the Man in the Moon himself came down  
>  one night to drink his fill._
> 
> _Oh! The ostler has a tipsy cat  
>  that played a high-string fiddle;  
>  And up and down he saws his bow,  
>  Now squeaking high, now purring low,  
>  now sawing in the middle. _
> 
> _The landlord keeps a little dog  
>  that is mighty fond of jokes;  
>  When there's good cheer among the guests,  
>  He cocks an ear at all the jests  
>  and laughs until he chokes._
> 
> _They also keep a horned cow  
>  as proud as any queen;  
>  But music turns her head like ale,  
>  And makes her wave her tufted tail  
>  and dance upon the green._
> 
> _The Man in the Moon took another mug,  
>  and then rolled beneath his chair;  
>  And there he dozed and dreamed of ale,  
>  Till in the sky the stars were pale,  
>  and dawn was in the air._
> 
> _Then the ostler said to his tipsy cat:  
>  ‘The white horses of the Moon,  
>  They neigh and champ their silver bits;  
>  But their master's been and drowned his wits,  
>  and the Sun'll be rising soon!’_
> 
> _So the cat and the fiddle played hey-diddle-diddle  
>  a drink that’ll wake the dead:  
>  He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune,  
>  And the landlord shook the Man in the Moon  
>  ’It’s after three!’ he said.”_

By the second and third lines of the first verse, all of the company had joined in. Aside from Thorin, who started drinking from a tarnished silver flask and ignored the whole thing sighing. Dori pretended to be above a bar song but eagerly joined in the line about the fiddle, and happily continued on with it throughout the rest. Instead of whisking out instruments from thin air like they do in the book, the whole company started stomping in rhythm under the tables, like small energetic children do. The first verse was punctuated by the first of food thrown at, luckily missing, Elrond. Gandalf grunted awkwardly and did the awkward white person thing where you just pretend everything is normal. I would know, I’m also white. Kíli threw something at the elven harpist which essentially gave the rest of the company permission to do the same. 

Bofur trilled the ‘r’ in purring, and the company all threw food at him for such a cheap gimmick. I didn’t participate, I was too busy giggling. As Bofur went on, Thorin kept drinking behind him, taking increasingly longer pulls from his flask. Bofur got enough into it that he started doing the jig to the song while staying on top of The Pedestal. Bombur used his body like a drum, and Bifur used the silverware to play the instrument that was his thick, hairy, axe-wielding skull. Gandalf was startled as the food throwing became more vigorous. Elrond seemed almost about to intervene, like we’d actually, finally, overstretched his hospitality. Some of the musicians executed some very well-timed slight movements and the surroundings suffered for those near-misses. The ending of the song was punctuated abruptly by a free-for-all at Bofur as the company cut him off from continuing. Everyone and everything around us suffered the mis-aimed throws of the food fight. I lost Kíli’s former salad to it, which was more wasteful then I liked, but I was full at that point anyways. Lindir looked on in utter horror.

When the company was done the musicians did not resume their, actually quite beautiful, chamber music. Bofur got down from The Pedestal, returning to the table and winked at me. It took the company a bit to settle down. Thorin helped by pacing around the tables as the party wound down, and that must have cued Balin and Dwalin. The two brothers separately calmed down their tables, Balin through talking, and Dwalin by killing any conversation as he reverted back to his true self: a stone statue of a frowning, intimidating dwarf. Eventually the room was quiet.

“Your company must be tired from the road. While we have been dining, Lindir has had a hall of rooms,” Elrond glanced at said elf, “prepared for you and your company.”

“If you would prefer beds to camping beneath the stars, I will lead you to them.” Lindir dipped his head with a hand over his heart.

“Actually, we have some questions that require the aid of a lore-master, Lord Elrond.” Gandalf said cheerfully. Thorin shot a glare at Gandalf across the room. I’d say he stared daggers, but that’s an under-representation of how mean Thorin’s glare is, and he seems to prefer axes. Given Bifur’s current fashion statement of choice, you get the picture. Of course Gandalf, being a wizard of Middle Earth and thus predating creation and not requiring mortal flesh to live, was not intimidated by a tiny, angry man.

“Then Lindir may lead your company to your beds while you, and those of your choosing, may discuss them.” Elrond said. Thorin, Balin and Dwalin had a quick whispered discussion. It was ended with Dwalin cracking his skull against Thorin’s. Lindir shared awkward, uncomfortable glances with the rest of his staff.

“Alright, let’s go.” Dwalin said, and the company followed. Bilbo made to go with them and I started to get up.

“Master Conrad, Bilbo- if you would stay.” Gandalf said, then turned to Elrond. “Lord Elrond, allow me to present my good friend, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, a hobbit of unimpeachable reputation and good family.” Bilbo shuffled awkwardly and bowed. 

“And this is young Master Conrad, whom we met on the road.” Gandalf said and Elrond’s gaze landed on me. I waved at him tiredly, not really paying attention.

“Are you well?” Bilbo asked me.

“He is a seer-”

“A seer?” Elrond interrupted Gandalf, and turned on me. “You have visions?” I rubbed my eyes and covered my mouth as I yawned. Those present waited for my answer and I ignored them Gandalf glared at me from the table, and I pretended not to notice.

“He has, at least, proven an uncanny ability to predict the future, though this is the first he has been silent of it.” Gandalf filled the silence.

“If by that you mean that he has told us, word for word and step by step, events before they happened, then Gandalf is correct.” Bilbo said. “I will vouch for it.” Gandalf harrumphed but Bilbo remained nonplussed. Whether it was out of ignorance of the true nature of wizards, or that familiarity had diminished his capacity to be intimidated by the wizard, I don’t know. 

I kept my silence and the conversation moved on.


	5. The Map

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter

Elrond was courteous enough to lead us to his study. There, an argument commenced between Gandalf and Balin about whether or not to show Lord Elrond the map. Balin demanded dwarvish secrecy and privacy, and the right to keep some things to themselves. Gandalf, in opposition, was adamant that Elrond was the only person here who could read it, a fact that Balin did not appreciate. To be fair, neither one of them was happy about it, and judging by Thorin’s face, he wasn’t happy either.

“Our business is no concern of elves.” Thorin put in, declaring it as though it was the end of the conversation. Balin utterly failed not to proudly fluff by his side.

“For goodness’ sakes! Thorin, show him the map!” Gandalf ordered.

“It is the legacy of my people. It is mine to protect,” Thorin glared at Gandalf, Bilbo and I, “as are its secrets.” Balin couldn’t hold back a smug, proud smile as he paced next to Thorin. Gandalf stared at them for a moment.

“Save me from the stubbornness of Dwarves!” He cursed. “Your pride will be your downfall. 

“You stand in the presence of one of the few in Middle Earth who can read that map. Show it to Lord Elrond.”

Thorin raised his chin and met Elrond’s eyes. The elf-lord returned his gaze calmly, betraying nothing. Then he stepped forward, pulling the map from his coat.

“Thorin-no!” Balin was brushed aside by Thorin. He walked to Elrond like a regal king meeting an equal. Then the moment hit me.

Elrond was the last of his house who could have taken the title of King of the Noldor. In a way, they were alike as the leaders of a people in exile, though the circumstances of that exile differed. Thorin was the exiled heir of the king of Erebor, greatest of all the dwarf kingdoms and also the heir of Durin himself- the first dwarf to walk the earth who was reincarnated at least six times in a row. Thorin was holding out one of the last and most precious heirlooms of his people, passed down to him through dragon fire and orcish ambush; he was giving it as the leader of a people who hated and warred with elves for thousands of years, to an elf. An elf who not only had the most prestigious pedigree in all of Arda, but the most cursed and beset family line ever. Someone who understood loss and misfortune arguably more than anyone else alive. 

Thorin held out the map like a king, and Elrond accepted it with an amazing amount of care and grace. In the span of a few seconds, something momentous had occurred. 

“Erebor.” Lord Elrond snapped me out of my thoughts, already holding the open, unfolded map. “What is your interest in this map?”

Gandalf spoke quickly: “it’s mainly academic. As you know this sort of artifact sometimes contains hidden text?” Elrond pursed his lips and glanced disappointedly at Gandalf. He turned away to the sunlight. Thorin deflated, and met Gandalf’s eyes only to receive a chastising look.

“You still read ancient dwarfish do you not?” Gandalf called after Elrond. The latter held up the map to the light.

“Cirth Ithil.” He pronounced in Sindarin.

“Moon runes.” Gandalf translated. “Of course. An easy thing to miss.” He gave Bilbo a look like he was in on it, the show off.

“Well in this case that is true: Moon Runes can only be read by the light of a moon of the same shape and season as the day on which they were written.” Elrond turned the map over in his hands, then pirouetted back to face us. Thorin raised an eyebrow.

“Can you read them?” He said in his arrogant, I-hate-elves-and-I’m-better-than-you tone.

Lord Elrond nodded at him, and lead us off. Gandalf caught up with his friend as we were lead into the depths of Rivendell. They chatted in undertones as we went through hallways, passed under arches, and went down long winding stairwells. Thorin and Balin bickered between themselves, until Gandalf interrupted his conversation with Elrond to snap at them. All three, Gandalf, Balin and Thorin, were equally put out at not being able to read the map, and in that moment came to the silent and unanimous decision not to talk about it ever again. Everything was beautiful but the long-legged leads walked quickly, so I tried not to get lost in the architecture and left behind. 

At long last we went down the final hallway, and went out into the open air. We stood upon a small outcrop, sheltered behind a waterfall. I hung back near the entrance, Elrond weirded me out. 

"Moon-letters are rune-letters, but you cannot see them," he narrated as we followed, "not when you look straight at them. They can only be seen when the moon shines behind them, and what is more, with the more cunning sort it must be a moon of the same shape and season as the day when they were written. The dwarves invented them and wrote them with silver pens, as your friends could tell you. These must have been written on a midsummer's eve in a crescent moon, a long while ago." The moon came out from behind the clouds and it’s light shone through the waterfall. I stopped behind them and turned back to watch it dance in a hypnotizing pattern across the walls.

“A moment Lord Elrond,” Gandalf interrupted, “Domini?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you tell us what this map says?” Gandalf asked behind me. The focus of all those present fell on me. I stared up at the walls and tried not to let it bother me.

“Something like, ‘stand by the hidden door at the last light of Durin’s Day where the thrush knocks.” I recited off the top of my head.

“You can do better.” Elrond said. Something compelled me to turn around and look at him. I met his piercing gray gaze and felt like I was being pulled in by the ocean tide. Like I was drowning, and the rivers of the world with their tides were stripping layers of my skin and pulling me under. It was pointless to resist, so I gave up and regretted it.

“ ‘Stand by the gray stone when the thrush knocks and the setting sun with the last light of Durin’s Day will shine upon the keyhole.’ ” I quoted Lord Elrond. It felt like he’d drawn it out of me like pulling out my innards out as the strings of some beautiful instrument. Thorin and Balin repeated some short refrain about Durin in an undertone, I could not make out the words over the waterfall. They all turned back to the map. I stumbled dizzily. The lights dancing on the walls did not help.

“He’s right.” Thorin breathed, snapped me out of… whatever. Dizziness, I think. Exhaustion. I ran fingers through my hair and focused on the very still and definitely not moving floor. 

“Durin’s Day?” Bilbo said. I slowly began edging over to them, not wanting to be in Elrond’s path when he left.

"The first day of our New Year," said Thorin, "is as all should know the first day of the last moon of Autumn on the threshold of Winter.” 

“We still call it Durin's Day when the last moon of Autumn and the sun are in the sky together." Balin said. I reached Thorin’s side quietly, keeping him between Elrond and I. 

“This is ill news. Summer is passing and Durin’s Day will soon be upon us.” Thorin said.

“We still have time.” Balin said.

“Time? For what?” Bilbo said. I frantically signed to Balin not to say anything, then caught Elrond’s curious glance and stopped.

“To find the entrance.” Balin said. “We must have time and place on our side, but if the elf-lord is right, fate will side with us upon our arrival. Then, and only then, can the door be opened.” I facepalmed. Suddenly, the waterfall sounded much louder, and I could hear the rumble of the river above and down below. The roar of falling water filled the air. I don’t know if I had blocked it out before, but now I heard it. And felt it. Droplets stung my skin as I braced on the table.

“So this is your purpose.” Elrond said to Balin and stopped me with a look. “To enter the mountain?”

“What of it?” Thorin snapped. Elrond turned to him.

“There are some who would not deem it wise.” Lord Elrond said to 4’10 of bristling fur coat, as he carefully folded the map and gave it back to Thorin. Being this near to Elrond… the spray of water almost felt angry. I shook my head.

“Who do you mean?” Gandalf asked. I coughed. Elrond turned on his friend.

“You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle Earth.” He reminded the wizard, then clicked away. I backed away from the angry elf, as he disappeared into Rivendell.

“Shit.” I said. “You’ve really done it this time Gandalf.”

“Done what?” He said.

“You really pissed him off. He was practically stomping.”

“That wasn’t stomping.” Balin said.

“You heard him clicking right? Did you hear him on the way over?” I said. Gandalf sighed. I jerked my head to the door, and Gandalf drew himself up. Fine. Don’t go after your friend who you just deeply insulted to his face. 

“How do you know of this?” Thorin demanded, turning on me.

“Well, obviously, I’m 200 years old.” I said the first thing that came to mind. Thorin’s gaze darkened and he stepped threateningly to me.

“I don’t know! I just know! I don’t even know how he got me that specific! I just do!” My voice went high pitched and I raised my hands. 

“Glimpses of the future are only given to few, especial and rare, lineages,” Gandalf muttered and stepped in between us, “Lord Elrond is one. Perhaps he may yet shed light on Young Master Conrad.” Thorin shook his head dismissively as Gandalf drew himself up.

“We’ve got our answers. We now know where and when to enter the mountain. All that’s left is to get there.” Gandalf said pragmatically.

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Thorin spat. “Now that you’ve alerted the elves to our intentions.” Gandalf looked down at Thorin over his fluffed out beard.

“Whatever you think of elves, Lord Elrond is a very kind and wise elf- yes, he is kind. We have been friends for many long years, almost since I have walked these lands, and I have never known him to act uncharitably, or out of vengeance or hatred. There may yet be some chance to sway him to our side.” Gandalf said.

“And if you can’t?” Thorin said. Gandalf looked down his nose at Thorin, like he was disgusted with him for suggesting it. It occurred to me that Gandalf’s major fault was that he was over-confident. As insufferable as Gandalf the White would be, he was maybe humbler than Gandalf the Grey.

“Come Master Conrad, we have yet things to discuss with him.” Gandalf said, and I dizzily chased after him.

Gandalf lead me through the hallways and paths of Rivendell like he’d been raised there. I struggled to keep up, and the brisk walk helped clear my head of… whatever had happened back there. Gandalf only briefly stopped to speak to an elf in Sindarin, then he lead me off again. We entered the gardens, and like everything else in Rivendell, they were stunningly beautiful.

The flowers were bright and blooming. Dew glistened on the grass and leaves. The water was wet from the river and its streams, which sweetened the air with the slight bite of cold. Somehow, in spite of the night’s chill, the scents of flowers and green and growing things still reached my nose in spite of the cold. That is, until I went scent-blind from it. We finally caught up to Elrond somewhere in the verdant beauty of it all and I fell in step behind the two of them. 

“Gandalf, you know a strain of madness lies upon that family.” Elrond said.

“First of all, rude.” I interrupted them. They both turned back to me and I pointed up to Thorin overlooking the gardens we were in.

“Second of all, who are you to deny his people their homeland simply because you blame the son for the mistakes of his forefathers?” I planted my feet and folded my arms. Elrond raised an eyebrow.

“Dragon sickness is no mistake.” He said.

“Yes, but instead of helping him to manage or overcome it, you’re telling him to give up. And-I-That is beneath you.” I said. Gandalf’s eyebrows disappeared into his hat. Lord Elrond folded his hands infront of him.

“With the dragon under the mountain, Thorin isn’t just risking the lives of his company. He is risking the lives of the Dalish and the elves of Lasgalen,” Elrond said, “and that is not including the hunger of dragons, that once he awakens, Smaug may yet blaze a path across the world.”

“One day, like it or not, that dragon may awaken. We-the opportunity should be taken to slay this dragon now, not later when we’re-when under siege from another dark lord revivalist or after it’s burned through the entirety of the North. Furthermore, the return of the dwarves to Erebor is the first step in the return of that triple alliance between men, dwarves and elves that didn’t just serve as the watchtower of the north but an example of unity between the free peoples and a center of trade and prosperity.”

“Then can you do as Thorin Oakenshield cannot, and give me a plan for the dragon? If you have even planned one?” Elrond said.

“I…” I stopped myself from giving away too much, “they haven’t told me. 

“I assume there’s one- Gandalf’s not that much of an idiot. Regardless, if the dragon hasn’t starved to death in its sleep, then we’re going in with the advantage of surprise, and at the very least, we have as much time as we want to strategize its death. Ample time to plan an attack is really the best position to be in with regards to a dragon.”

“Then tell me why I should condone handing over Erebor to a dwarf who will likely go mad, just as his grandfather did?” Elrond said. 

“The curse of the Fëanorions did not dissuade you from working with Celebrimbor-“ I snapped and then realized what I had said, “nor should it have.

“But even if he is susceptible to it, you still have to help him. Help him manage it, or resist it… he can’t control whether or not he’s affected, so the least you could do is try to help him with it.”

“There is a long step from helping a dwarf with generational madness, to helping him take the mountain that caused it.”

“He’s not the only one to have inherited the mistakes, or curses, of his ancestors.” I said. “He may fall to sickness, just as the sons of Fëanor and the host of the Noldor were swallowed by the oath. Galadriel is yet banned from the west. The entirety of Numenor sank into the sea for the actions of one king, as though every man, woman and child left on that island was irredeemable filth.”

“You have no right to lecture me on my own history.” Lord Elrond cut me off. I started to argue, then took a deep breath. Shit- he looked like a river right before it overflowed over the land. He was right- and I’d crossed many lines.

“I’m sorry.” I said to him then looked down at my feet. After a few seconds, I continued: “I am still arguing for compassion.”

“Compassion?” Gandalf said incredulously.

“Yes!” I said. “I’m living in a world that I inherited from my ancestors. It’s broken, and awful, and there’s so many layers of hurts- systemic, oppressive, societal- layered on top of each other that have never been acknowledged or apologized for. And I am tired of living in a world where the people with power- people like you- consistently, always, pick any possible choice aside from the moral one. If helping another people would hurt you, or even simply produce no real benefit for you, than you choose not to do it. And we-people like me-the young, the masses-have to live with these choices you made on our behalf, in our names. 

“And we are left as the ones picking up the messes, trying to fix the mistakes of the past when people like you with power and wealth and influence and every advantage won’t even acknowledge them. I’m tired of living in a world where the people in power do nothing-or do wrong, and the rest of us have to pick between spending our lives as we wish or doing their jobs for them. I’m so tired of this apathetic, myopic and amoral place, where the only people who stand up for what they believe in are motivated by such virtues as power or wealth or navel-gazing.”

“Your argument is that it is moral?” Lord Elrond said.

“Yes!” I clasped his hand. “You don’t know me, but I have the utmost respect for you. What I know of your life is that-that you have every reason to be bitter, or angry, or despairing, and you have chosen instead to put forth hope and kindness and compassion. It’s so easy to fall to bitterness and hatred and despair and vengeance- Thorin,” I threw out a hand, “in spite of himself, is one example. But what I know of you is that you do not let yourself fall to that. Even if it costs you. What you have made here is a place for people to heal and a place that empowers them to become changers of their own destiny: to see the evil in the world and put forth good. And places and people that empower others to do right and fix wrongs are the most powerful sources of good that exist. 

“I am just so disappointed that you would choose otherwise. That you would bow to the daunting fear and uncertainty that gets between individuals and what is right. I expected someone who had the courage and backbone to give compassion to the hurt, redemption to the wrongdoers and who could see clearly and choose to do the right thing in the face of overwhelming odds. And, what I find is just a mirror into the darkness.” I finished despondently. Elrond’s ears twitched and I abruptly dropped his hand. It was such an odd, inhuman motion that I was reminded of who I was talking to; and damn, I didn’t care for class distinctions but flaunting them in their faces was extreme disrespect. I should have called him my lord, or… something.

“Sorry,” I said abruptly and rubbed my face, “I get emotional when I’m tired. I’ll go to bed.”

“I trust you can find your way to your rooms?” Lord Elrond said. I nodded, paused but was too awkward to bow, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for that last bit- I tried to shorten it down as best I could. It still sounds a bit preachy I think, but there it is.


End file.
